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Please. Won't Somebody Tell Me; Sonnet For A Sounding Brass And Tinkling Cymbal
Please, won't somebody tell me why a strutting clown---
who brought such chaos to our Capitol town---
still aspires to high office with ambitions as low
as the pits of hell? And not too long ago,
he sought to make all our people compliant and comformable
to his amorality (his soul is contemptible).
Imposer of falsehoods, and breaker of rules,
he is fit only to govern thugs and fools.
I pray God in Heaven to slap upon him a stern rebuke,snd
this poseur, this pirate, this purveyor of fake views,
this shouter of superlative love of himself. I flatly refuse
to speak well of him (the sound of his name makes me want to puke).
And if (Dear God forbid) our people and homeland swerve
into that monster's cluthes---well, we will get what we deserve.
Starward
Delicious read, how the red
Delicious read, how the red emboldens me. Hate hath so many different degrees, primarily I mean in correlation to the various principles transmitted via networks of social contagion in order to drive the nightmares of one another's pridefully perceived cultural swerves, yet prevalant and parellel in this all-redy-hell you see. Hypocrisy might be the term best fit for you yourself to grasp and humble by when all our monuments (once-upon-a-time) finally crumble.
peace, pot, tequila shot
Jesus loves us, stoned or not
Thank you. I continue to
Thank you. I continue to regret my own worst hypocrisy, which was to relinquish the opportunity to love and be loved in early 1978. That relinquishment was accomplisbed by the insidious words of people very much like the (fictional) character I have attempted to portray in this poem.
Starwardist